


Reunion

by Anglophileslytherin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, It made me cry, based off of art by nanihoo, so i wrote a fic, their design of Sigyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anglophileslytherin/pseuds/Anglophileslytherin
Summary: "I was trying to come up with a witty response to all the asks I’ve gotten about what Sigyn would think of the new Thor trailerbut then I realized she’d just be happy to see him alive again" ~ Nanihoo, on the art they did that inspired this piece.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sigyn and Loki reunite in Ragnarok](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/286482) by Nanihoo. 



 

* * *

 

 

“Frey should be in the palace,” Loki said to Thor the moment they stepped from the Branch of Yggdrasil onto the firm soil of Vanaheim. “We may need to find mounts, I know not where precisely we have landed. I—”

There was a choked noise behind them and he spun to face it, knives in his hands, ready to strike his foe—

A short woman with dark skin dusted with freckles like a galaxy of stars, wide eyes, long red hair pulled back from her face with a simple updo that left most of it falling around her shoulders, strong arms sheathed in blue-green cloth darker than he had ever seen her wear, long fingers shaking by her mouth in disbelief, a gold ring still gleaming on her left ring finger.

“Sigyn.” Her name fell from his lips without a thought. He _couldn’t_ think, couldn’t find a single thought or word but her. The world might as well have not existed but for the two of them; he could barely feel the ground beneath his feet.

She made that choked noise again.

It made sense, he knew distantly, for her to be on this realm. The wife of a traitor prince would have no pleasant life on Asgard, and she was Vanir. It would make sense for her to leave, to return to her home and make a new life for herself. Perhaps even to marry again, marry someone who actually deserved her.

She still wore his ring.

“Loki?” she finally managed, and the sound broke his heart anew. “Husband? Is that—Can it be—”

Slowly, unsteadily, she moved towards him. She looked to be in such _pain_. He hadn’t expected that, somehow. They had called her the goddess of fidelity, but to be hurt by the death of a monster such as he was…That was madness, surely. He had been convinced of it. She would be better off without him to ruin her. Seeing her now, so—so _fragile_ , and that was never a word that should be anywhere near Sigyn, he doubted for the first time whether he had been protecting her or himself.

She stopped a foot away from him, staring up at him with such desperate, searching eyes.

“Sigyn.” Norns, he did not deserve to even speak her name; he never had. No monster should be looked at with eyes like that. “Sigyn. I am…” He stumbled. What could he say? There weren’t any words he could give her that would be enough, nothing would ever be enough. “I am so sorry.” Pathetic. And they called him Silvertongue.

“Loki,” she said a third time. There was power in threes: three Norns, three roots of Yggdrasil, three by three Realms, three hard winters before Ragnarök, three hardships Odin went through to gain wisdom, and he knew his thoughts had started spiraling but he couldn’t focus couldn’t manage anything but stare at the goddess that had been his bride standing so close he could see the tears hanging on her lashes, tears he had caused, tears—

_Crack!_

His head snapped back as she socked him in the jaw. He blinked, took a moment to straighten again. Sigyn was looking back and forth between the hand she had punched him with and his face with something between disbelief and joy that left her looking even more like she was about to cry.

She always had had a devastating uppercut.

“I deserved that,” he agreed. Then, feeling at a loss, “If you wish to continue, you are welcome to my knives, if you lack your own.”

She let out a noise that might have been a laugh or might have been a sob. “You died. How—?”

“The Norns evidently are quite insistent upon Ragnarök.” And then, again, “I am sorry, Sigyn. I never meant—” Never meant to harm you, never meant to make you love a monster, never meant to ruin everything so horribly.

“Oh, _Loki!_ ” She threw herself at him, hugging him as though if she let go he would vanish again. Was this a dream, after all? How could it be real? After all he had done, after what he was, Sigyn’s arms around him, her hair soft against his cheek, surrounding him with the scent of spring rains, of flowers and earth. But no, if he were hallucinating again she would not be crying, would not be so terribly thin, would not feel like if he held her too tightly she would break into a thousand pieces and blow away on the wind. “Loki,” he heard her whisper into his ear between hiccupping sobs, “Husband.”

Slowly he locked trembling hands behind her waist to brace her and pulled her even closer, nestling against her shoulder. “Sigyn,” he answered her, his voice softer than a sparrow’s wingbeat. “Wife.”


End file.
